


The Crushes of Logan Sanders

by Kel_Sticks



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adorable Morality | Patton Sanders, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Crushes, Fluff, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), I don't know how to tag but I'm trying my best, Logan Needs A Hug, Logan is confused, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, POV Logan, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kel_Sticks/pseuds/Kel_Sticks
Summary: "In that moment, without making a conscious decision, some part of my subconscious swore to never, ever, fall in love with one of my friends again. My mind’s defence systems kicked in, building walls around errant feelings, an iron cage around my heart, determined to never let love run wild."Logan doesn't fall in love easily. But when he does, he falls hard enough to leave a scar. He's determined to never let it happen again.So why can he not stop thinking about Virgil?(Some good ole' high school au fluff about crushes and first relationships)





	1. Falling for You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this story is based on something that happened to me and lemme just tell you this song "Falling for you" by peachy! is literally a Whole-Ass Mood TM for this chapter, I listened to it when I was going thru this and boi its exactly what I was feeling except gayer.

Where exactly does this story start? I suppose, at the very beginning. The first day we met. I say met, but really, I don’t think we spoke until weeks later. It was the first week of high school.Art class. I sat at the back, sticking close to a middle school acquaintance (we’d never really been friends, but familiarity was comforting in the whirlwind of new faces). We were sketching plants; one leafy pot between each pair, pencils and broken leads scattered across the desks and graphite smudging our fingers silver. Above the general hubbub of conversation, a laugh. I glanced up from my frustrated erasing to see a boy from my PE class, Patton, who’d been my partner for the lesson. My first possible new friend. He was laughing at something the boy next to him had said. Purple hair, ripped jeans and black hoodie; the kind of style I secretly wish I could pull off, but know wouldn’t fit me. It fit him, though. His shoulders hunched slightly, leaning forwards over his work, hair flopping onto the desk as he turned to Patton, smiling and trying not to smile.

Even now I can’t explain why, but for some reason, in that moment, I had the sudden feeling that we could be good friends. That we’d get along.

Fast forward half a year, and our group of friends was staring to form. Me and Patton and purple-hair, whose name I’d later found from Patton: Virgil. Joining us was Roman, a guy from our drama class and Virgil’s childhood friend. A few other people occasionally dropped by; Remy, my middle school acquaintance, Kai, from Virgil’s maths class, Elliot, from mine and and Patton’s homeroom. But mostly, it was just the four of us. We became inseparable.

Virgil was the first to come out. He brought it up casually, a kind of “Oh, and by the way I’m gay.”

We were all cool with it, life went on.

Roman was next, coming out as pan during a conversation about the attractiveness of certain celebrities. Then I started questioning my own sexuality. I’d always liked girls, that was true, but I didn’t really see any problem with dating a guy either. Still, being okay with concept of dating a guy and actually doing it were two different things. I’d never had a crush on a guy in the same way I’d had crushes on girls. But then again, I didn’t get crushes very easily. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, I put the matter out of my mind.

Until the next year.

The year when somehow, without even realising it, I started to fall for Patton. He was just so damnadorable, with his childish excitement and infectious smile and cute bowed lips that I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing. We’d become firm best friends by then, and even though I knew his “G’night, love ya,” texts after a late night conversation were most likely entirely platonic, my heart still skipped a beat each time I saw them. Being around him walked the line between bliss and torture. We were always on the same wavelength, always loved the same things and could spend days together without getting bored.

But there were moments.

Climbing the old bent tree by river, evening sunlight making a golden halo around his messy curls, watching his lips as he told an animated story about last night’s dream. Feeling the crazy urge to pull him into my arms, hold him tight and kiss his messy curls, his freckled forehead, his perfect lips.

In moments like that, I’d keep perfectly still, half my brain telling me to move, the other rational part telling me to stop being an idiot. Patton would think I was crazy, it could ruin our whole friendship. I’d make him feel awkward, then I’d feel awkward, then everything between us would be awkward and there’d be no going back. No, his friendship was too good to lose. Much better to stay put, hiding the turmoil behind laughs and smiles and staring at him for just a little bit longer than normal.

I don’t think I ‘came out’ per say, just dropped hints, made puns. The others caught on pretty quickly. It became a running joke that Patton was the only straight one left.

“Our group is literally the gayest of the gay,” Roman would say.

“Except for Patton.”

Virgil, usually.

“Who knows,” I’d add quickly, “I thought I was straight for ages. You thinking of joining the queer side anytime soon, Pat?”

He’d laugh. “I honestly don’t know Lo.”

That was the most infuriating part. He didn’t _know_. If he was straight and sure, fine. I could tell myself I have no chance and move on. But he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know. Which meant, technically, he could be queer, and then I’d have a chance. Then maybe, just _maybe_ , he could like me back. It was all wishful thinking, of course. I had a rational mind. If he liked me back, he wouldn’t say that he was confused, he know that he was queer. But love isn’t rational. No matter how improbable, how infinitesimally slight, there was still a chance. 

And I couldn’t let go.

No matter how much my rational mind pleaded to stop, to let go, to find someone else to fall in love with, someone who could actually love me back, I couldn’t do it. By then, I’d told some of my friends from out of school, and their reactions had all been the same.

“If he’s your best friend, just tell him. He’ll understand.”

But I couldn’t do that either. I was terrified of what he’d think, that he’d never look at me the same way again. I didn’t want to do anything that could make our friendship awkward in any way.

After almost a year, I’d finally had enough. I had to tell him. I couldn’t stand it any longer. We were texting late at night, Patton’s tiredness making him even more adorably child-like, writing random poems to each other, nonsense words strung together in stream-of-conscious freeform. He wrote about blueberries all things that rhyme with lick apart from the obvious. I wrote about not being able to think of what to write about. He wrote about cats, about pies and things that start with L. I wrote about glow-in-the-dark stars and things that start with P. He wrote about being best friends with me. I wrote about being in love with him.

He did’t respond immediately. The three dots haunted me, appearing and disappearing as he decided what to say. My hands shook.

His reply was pretty much what I’d expected.

_“That took a lot of courage, Lo, I’m proud of you, but I don’t feel the same way sorry. You’re still my best friend in the whole wide world tho.”_

I could have cried from relief. He was still my friend. I hadn’t driven him away. And I had my solid, definitive proof that he didn’t love me in that way. Wild hope and fantasy was beaten, and sound logic could finally take it’s rightful place.

In that moment, without making a conscious decision, some part of my subconscious swore to never, ever, fall in love with one of my friends again. My mind’s defence systems kicked in, building walls around errant feelings, an iron cage around my heart, determined to never let love run wild.

Which brings us to the present. Two months later. Quashing the lingering feelings for Patton when, on occasion, they surface. Giving myself a severe mental telling-off if my mind ever threw up a random thought like “hey, you could kiss Virgil,” or “Maybe Roman would date you, if you asked,” or “Remy’s bi too, wonder if he likes you.”

No falling in love with friends. Mental rule number one.

But no matter how many times I tell myself that, no matter how many thoughts I have to chase from my head, one person keeps coming back. I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s like I knew, from the very first day I saw his floppy purple hair and shy smile, that we were meant to be together.

I don’t even let myself think it, but deep down I know; I’m breaking rule number one. I’m falling in love again.

With him.

Virgil.

 


	2. Freckles and Constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a couple of lines from Dodie's song 'Freckles and Constellations' that really clicked when I was writing this chapter, if you wanna give it a listen its a really cute lil song :)

I’ve never really been a party person. Too many people in a space too small, with crappy music bound to leave your ears ringing. Not that I’ve been to many parties though. I think thats why I always go, they’re such a rare occasion I forget how draining they can be. They usually end with me and Virgil in a corner eating food, Patton sometimes joining us, watching Roman in all his social butterfly glory.

Remy’s party was no different, except this time, neither Patton nor Roman were able to come.

“How do people genuinely enjoy this kind of music?” Virgil grumbled, perched on the arm of my chair, coke can in hand. He was speaking louder than normal to be heard over the screechy electronic bass drop in a song blasting over bluetooth speakers.

“No idea,” I said through a mouthful of Doritos. “D’ya think they’d notice if I turned the volume down?”

“Duh, of course.”

“Hmm. Should we go somewhere quieter? I could steal some chips from the table.”

Virgil snorted, “Go ahead, I dare you.”

I considered for a moment. “Nah, thats effort.”

“Aw, boring,” Virgil said, bumping his ice cold drink against my head.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Come on, we should probably go and interact with the other humans.”

I stood and, with a theatrical sigh, Virgil did too. The party was in Remy’s paved and minimalistic backyard, with a glass-topped table covered in party food and garden chairs strewn around the place. We’d been sitting off to the side, but we pushed through a group of people standing around chatting to get to the food table. I looked around at the faces, trying to decide which conversation I should join, but I didn’t really know anyone that well. I grabbed a handful of chips and joined the nearest group, standing awkwardly next to Elliot, a boy in a couple of my classes that I spoke to on occasion. From what I could hear, they were gossiping about some guy in our year who apparently had a crush on a girl in the year above and the whole drama surrounding the situation that I could barely follow. I shifted my weight, not knowing what to dod with myself, nodding along as if I knew what was happening.

Suddenly there was a hand around my upper arm, tugging me along, and Virgil’s voice in my ear; “C’mon c’mon let’s go.”

Adrenaline jolted through my system. “Wha– Virge?”

“Go, go, go,” he whispered, holding back laughter and hurrying me around the side of the house, away from the party. The noise and chatter dropped as we hit the alley between house and fence. Virgil let go of my arm and his held breath, holding up a bag of chips and shaking it in triumph. I broke into a grin. Partially because _yes, food!_ and partially because he just looked so _damn adorable_ with his smug smile and eyes shining in glee. 

“Oh, you did not…”

“Oh yes I did,” he laughed, popping a chip in his mouth and holding out the bag to me.

“You,” I said, taking a handful, “are a public menace. Stealing chips? How scandalous.”

“Shut up, you,” he said, tugging my glasses off. I let him. 

"How rude." 

I made a grab for them but he ducked away, grinning, and put them on.

“Oh my god you are blind. How do I look?”

Like an adorable dork.

“Like a librarian.”

“Perfect.”

I laughed. Until then, I hadn’t realised how uneasy the party had been making me. I could feel myself relaxing. _This_ was what made me feel alive; quiet nights with a best friend, munching chips and mucking about under the stars.

We stepped over a piles of pavers, going as far down the alley as we could, the music and chatter getter fainter as we walked. Virgil took off my glasses, blinking as his vision returned to normal.

“Here, you can have your sight back.”

Goosebumps crept down the back of my neck as he hooked the frames back over my ears, fingertips brushing against my hair. I froze. He was so close, his eyes on mine as he adjusted my glasses so that sat properly on my face. I didn’t dare make eye contact.

_Don’t think about kissing him_ _don’t think about kissing him…_

“There ya go,” he said, booping my nose and standing back.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. _Control yourself, Logan._ “How dare you boop me!” I said with mock indignation. I tried to boop him back but he skipped out of reach, hand covering his nose.

“Ha ha! You can’t boop me!”

“Oh really? We'll see about that.”

We stumbled further down the alley; locked in a mini wrestling match, laughing and cursing, ending with me finally pulling Virgil’s hand free and booping his nose with a triumphant “Ha!”

Panting slightly, we slouched back against the house, hidden behind a heating unit so that if anyone glanced down the alley, it would appear empty.

“Now this is where the real party’s at,” he said, letting his head thunk back against the bricks, turning slightly so I could see his lazy half-smile and sparkling eyes in the moonlight. My breath hitched.

_If this was a movie, this would be the part where we kiss._

No.

Stop being stupid.

I pushed the thought from my mind. Grabbed more chips. Shifted around a little bit until, by complete accident of course, our shoulders were touching. He didn’t seem to notice, taking out his phone.

“Let’s listen to some music that’s actually good,” he said, flicking open the music app. “Any requests?”

His was so close, I’d only have to lean forwards a bit then… _no, stop_. _He’s your best friend. You can’t go around randomly kissing your best friends._ “Umm…dunno. You choose.”

“Right-o, Panic! At the Disco it is, then.” He put the volume up enough to drown out the faint electro beat from around the corner, sliding down the wall with a grating of fabric on brick until he was sitting. I joined him. We sat like that for a while; chatting, eating chips, singing along to the lyrics.

When we heard the pizza arrive, I went on a food retrieval mission (“I stole the chips, you steal the pizza,” Virgil had said) and came back with a loaded plate. We turned on a phone flashlight to eat by, propping it against the house and making shadow puppets against the fence; me a shadow rabbit, him a shadow wolf. A dramatic fight scene with whispered sound effects and muffled laughter ensued. 

I stopped thinking about kissing him. Pushed it firmly from my mind. It wasn’t worth the risk. Our friendship was so easy, so natural; we were always on the same page, we could talk about anything, joke about everything. It was what I lived for, and what I was terrified of losing.

By that time, I’d pretty much convinced myself that none of my friends would ever date me. Why would they? I was just Logan. Nothing special, nothing particularly appealing. Just plain old Logan. Even though Roman loved dating people and Remy always flirted with everyone and Virgil often complained about not having a boyfriend, there was no reason any of them would be interested in me.

Or so I thought. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also I know in the comments of the last chapter I said I'd update "in a few days" and its been at least two weeks... me and time management aren't really on speaking terms...


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